Betrayal and Death
by Wolfsbane-craze
Summary: A girl was betrayed and lost everything. A foreigner crosses her path and she can't resist but tease, torture and finally kill him.


My blood boiled through me. It felt as if my only reason to live was to kill. The blade in my hand shone with crimson and it sang to me. I couldn't wait to plunge it into my next victim. I looked up and noticed a man standing across the field of mutilated bodies. His clothes were odd but other than that I charged. I didn't care who he was. I wanted to destroy him. A fresh wave of betrayal shot through me as I yelled for my victory. What surprised me though was the weapon he pulled out. It looked modern, something only the government issued. I shot back as if burned and brandished my sword in front of me, a warning. The man watched me as I studied him. His clothes were obviously from the West and his weapon was most definitely a modern one, one that used gun powder.

I asked him who he was but received no reply, which made my temper flare into red rage. This was a boy! Though I most certainly couldn't judge since I was also young, but this boy didn't have the look; the look that a true warrior gets in their eyes after facing death and causing it. How dare he come into my territory and try to claim it? I raised my sword at him again, wanting him gone. His body stiffened and his eyes hardened. Good. I wanted him to be defensive. I wanted him to know that the blood shed around me was my doing. I wanted him scared and begging for his life.

He raised his weapon and pointed it at me. I've only seen the police officers use these weapons so it confused me to see him have one. He didn't wear their uniform. I smirked and faked an overhead hit, causing him to fire, before sweeping towards his left side. The boy jumped back and quickly attached a small dagger to the end of his weapon. He wanted to fight me using _that_? I think he got a hint of my thoughts for he tried to stab me with it. But I laughed and smacked it away with my hand.

"You can't hurt me boy! Their blood stains my blade." I told him but he didn't seem to understand. I spread my arms out instead, indicating for him to look around. Cautiously, his eyes moved around us and seemed to widen. How could he have not noticed? The heat, the smell, the sight, the dead silence surrounded us. Anyone would know to stay away without the cicadas chirping. As his eyes turned back to me, I rushed towards him. I swung my sword towards his side before moving down to his knees. He used his weapon to block my attack, impressive considering I was only toying with him. This continued for a lengthy amount of time before the soldier, from what I deduced, in front me stumbled upon his knees. I panted slightly while looking down on him. This wasn't as fun as I thought it would be.

Words flowed from his mouth quickly and I almost reared back from the foreigner. I knew he was from somewhere else, but to actually hear him speak was something else. I grinned and told him there was no use in talking, considering I couldn't understand him. On the bright side, this boy wasn't too bad to look at. Just by a glance I could tell he had thick brown hair, a slim body and soul searching brown eyes. However the hair going down his cheek bones threw me off. None of the men grew their hair in such an odd formation. My sword lifted the boy's chin up so we were looking each other in the eyes. My anger started to return. My sword was begging to be drowned in his blood.

"I don't like you. Would you like to know why?" I spoke softly, trying to let him know I wasn't going to hurt him at this time. Not yet anyways. He looked confused but stilled in any movements he had planned.

"I don't like you because you come into my territory with your modern weapon and think you can take over. I hate people like you. I hate your country. I hate that you're just a boy who has no experience in taking the life of another or saving one. You have never been drenched in the blood of your victims. How could you ever think you would be able to defend yourself against me? I don't think you even care who you face as long as you aren't required to kill. I feel such a rage just by looking at you in your pathetic uniform. You hold no authority.

All I want to do is slowly slice through your skin, listening to your every labored breath. You will scream in agony all because of my doing. I'll make sure your people realize that they shouldn't be here by using you as an example. Look at you. You don't even know what I'm saying and you glare at me. I'll give you something to glare about you insolent, selfish boy!" I quickly swiped the tip of my sword across his cheek, smiling at his shout of protest. His attempt to stand was quickly stopped by my sword against his throat. I glared at him and leaned down close to his face, grabbing and disconnecting the small dagger from his weapon.

"I'm sure you have a special place in hell reserved just for you." I mumbled before licked the blood from his cheek. I plunged his small dagger into his side and couldn't help but grin at the scream that was thrown from his throat. I loved that sound, especially from a "strong" man. It sent waves of pleasure down my spine. I pushed the boy down and straddled his waist. Grabbing his stick, or whatever it is, I threw it out of his grasp but still in eye sight. I didn't know if it would fire again or not but I didn't want to find out. I held my sword against his throat, letting him know I didn't want him moving. I grabbed his hands and put them above his head.

Watching for his reaction, I trailed a hand down his jacket, undoing each button until I reached the bottom. I noticed his breathing halted for a small moment as I opened the jacket, revealing a white shirt. I lifted the shirt up to see the skin of his stomach and chest. His chest and lower stomach was dusted with brown hair. I took his dagger in my left hand and watched his face while I dragged it down his throat to belt. He looked like he was about to have a panic attack. I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. He must think I'm crazy. Judging by his look my assessment is correct.

"You're definitely going to enjoy yourself." I told him and digging the knife deeper into his skin, drawing blood. His hands quickly threw up and grabbed at my throat while the other grabbed my wrist on his chest. My eyes narrowed and I dug my sword deeper into his throat while his hand tightened around my neck. He said something to me and I noticed his new found determination. I smirked and slowly began dragging my sword across his throat, immediately drawing blood. His hand quickly grabbed my right wrist instead, leaving my left wrist free to slam the hilt of the dagger into his chest. He spluttered for a moment and coughed in an effort to catch his breath. His body twisted underneath me and I allowed him so I was sitting on his back. It wasn't my favorite position, since I couldn't see his face, but I didn't want my throat grabbed again. I lifted his shirt up over his back and dug the dagger in once more, carving.

The first letter was hard from all of his squirming, but one smack of the head made him still. I continued carving letters into his back with neat script. Some might consider me cruel or my treatment inhumane. However, once betrayed by someone you love and everything is stolen from you, you lose all sense of hope and sanity. I wanted revenge against everyone; no one was safe from my blade. I looked at my handiwork, proud of myself. A once clean and smooth back now littered with blood and one word. One word was all it took to break someone. The word I chose for him… liar. He wasn't a warrior. He hadn't been on the battle field long enough to know the pain one has. I wanted to just stab him in the back. It wouldn't be anything new for me. I kill my opponents any way I can though I do prefer fighting honorably. Drawing a large X on his lower back just under the word, I stood up and waited for him to stand and face me.

"Get up." I ordered. When he didn't move I got annoyed. I'm offering him a chance to defend himself, to _prove_ himself and he just lays there. I move to stand at his side and nudge him with my foot.

"Get up and fight me!" I yelled at him. I saw his hands clench and he swung his fist towards my calf. It wasn't until I felt the pain did I realize he had another dagger. I screamed in pain before kicking towards him. I hit his face and he immediately let go of the dagger. I bent down and yanked it from my leg. Throwing it at a random tree I kicked him again. I hate when people do that. I really hate it! I pointed my sword at his neck and glared. He eyes stared into mine and I could see the pain within them. He knows nothing of pain. I have scars littering my body and he's crying over a simple branding. I bent down and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him up into a sitting position. Letting go, I walked over to an already dead victim and took his sword. I passed it towards the boy and stood in a fighting stance. I waited with baited breath. Stand up. Fight me.

He stood up on shaking legs and faced me, making a foreign stance. I smirked and started to circle him. This was always my favorite part, making them sweat. I felt his fear, his rage, his desperation and it fed me. I have a vision of his blood on my sword and charged. I swung diagonally but he tried to jab me. I quickly deflected his blow and tried to get behind him. He followed me though. I smiled and tried to go for his head again. He blocked my blow, the determination becoming stronger in his eyes. Good. I wanted him to be determined because after that passes it becomes desperation. I continued these series of attacks. Just enough to have him worry and block, make him have hope. Let him think that he could possibly win.

The boy yelled something at me and I was side tracked for a moment, just enough to let him scratch me again. I jumped back and assessed him. He was tired and I could tell his back was bothering him, too bad for him. My leg screamed in pain with every step I took and all my scratches itched. He was going to pay for stabbing me. I disliked when people are actually able to catch me. I looked up at him, hating the height difference, and watched as he dropped his sword. I laughed. He didn't want to fight me after everything I put him through? He's an idiot. His blood is singing to me and he doesn't even know it.

I gave a small smile to seem innocent and started to walk towards him, blade at my side. His entire body tensed. Good. He should be worried. Stopping a foot in front of him, I lifted my blade towards his chest. I couldn't hold out much longer. I was becoming impatient with his antics and wanted it to be over.

"You don't want to fight me? Fine, then you will just die by my blade." I rushed towards him. He moved to grab his sword but I was quicker. I swung my blade up across his chest then kneeled to slice the back of his knees. He automatically collapsed. My blood sang. I would have his blood on my sword. Watching as he tried to grab his sword, I carefully walked between his legs and placed one on his chest and the other right between his legs. I placed more pressure on his chest, causing him to gasp for breath. I grinned when he grabbed my ankle.

"Come on, be a man. Try to overthrow me. Try to save your pathetic life." I saw the tears start to form in his eyes and felt pleasure rush through me. He deserved this. He should have stayed home if he didn't want to fight. He should have never picked up a weapon. I leaned further back to crush the junction between his legs, ripping the screams from his throat. This coward would never have children. His blood line will end here. I turned around to get off of his chest, but not before I twisted my foot, crushing his genitalia. I smirked as he rolled onto his side and curled up into the fetal position. I walked around him, waiting for his screams to stop and turn into whimpers. I've done this many times before. I knew the signs.

Once the whimpers started I slowly moved closer to him. Men were usually in too much pain, but some have surprised me if the scars on my chest and face were anything to go by. I knelt behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, the other going through his hair as if to comfort him.

"I took your most prized possession, your blood line. You will never have children and no one to tell your story. You will die by my hand and no one will find your killer, ever. You will be defeated by a woman since you refused to fight. You idiot boy, you should have fought me. You have the determination and the will but you're weak. So, so weak… You're pathetic." I pulled his head back by his hair and looked into his eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks from the pain. I smirked and kissed his forehead. I then placed my sword against the side of his throat and slowly cute through the thin skin to the jugular vein. I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back. Feeling the rage consume me I started stabbing his shoulders repeatedly. Only when they were fully soaked in blood did I slice through his stomach before bending down and grabbing his intestines, pulling them out before his eyes. Ripping them out I straddled his hips and began to tear every organ my hands could touch out of his still alive body. I grinned as I showed him each one of my prizes until his eyes were dull. I continued to pull out his lungs and finally his heart. This small, still warm, organ in my hand is what keeps us alive. It's almost a joke that something so small can sustain us. I inspect every crevice and curve of the heart before squeezing it in my hand. I didn't want to think of the frailty of life. I placed the heart by his head.

Sitting back, I reveled in the afterglow of his death. His still warm body underneath me, I wiped away his tear stains. He was a boy, probably close to my age. I stood from his body and beside his head. I raised my sword and with one final look towards his somewhat whole body, I swung down. His head rolled away from his body and while I licked the blood from my sword, watching it. I sighed and wiped the blood off with a spare cloth I carried. With one more look around the field of cold bodies I started to walk away, collecting all of my items. At the edge of the trees I couldn't help but look back and see the boy. His stomach sliced open and all internal organs littering the ground around his body. I smiled. I felt proud of myself. The pleasure started to leave my body and I was left with a sense of peace. Wondering how long this feeling would last, I turned and made my way back towards my camp site. I wouldn't be captured for loitering around my own crime scene. I'm blood thirsty not insane.


End file.
